


Golden Days (years)

by AngeNoir



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cats, Curtains Fic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Future Fic, Intimacy, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 12:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20358475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: Steve had never imagined his life like this.





	Golden Days (years)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tunastork (mariexa)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariexa/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Steve and Tony Growing Old Together](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/511411) by tunastorks. 

> I took inspiration from [this amazing art piece](). I hope you like it!

“Tony.”

“Mmm.”

Steve stepped around the armchair, gently resting his hand on his husband’s shoulder. It was warm, here, and Steve rubbed his thumb over the ball of Tony’s shoulder, a soft repetitive motion to pull Tony out of his nap and grab his attention.

(Tony claimed he didn’t have a favorite place to sit, but he always ended up against the floor-to-ceiling windows in the library, in the red plush armchair, bathed in golden light as he dozed with a book slipping down against his chest. Steve found it adorable and didn’t mention it all that much in case Tony took it into his mind to be stubborn and find a different place to sit.)

(Steve really liked finding Tony here, where the afternoon light touched the silver in his husband’s hair, where Meowser would curl up on the arm and rumble like an engine.)

“Tony,” he repeated, voice just louder than a murmur.

Tony hummed again, and blinked up lazily at Steve, the light catching on his brown eyes and making them practically glow. “Hey, Steve, my darling,” he said, voice rough and creaky with age. The crow’s feet around his eyes deepened as he smiled up at Steve, lifting his hand and petting down Steve’s cheek. “Time’s it?”

“Late enough that if you keep sleeping, you’ll be up late and be cranky because of it,” Steve chuckled, cupping his hand around Tony’s and stroking his fingers over the soft skin. “Besides, you’re going to have a crick in your neck if you keep sitting here. Meowser has also probably put your legs to sleep by now.”

“Is that what I’m feeling?” Tony mumbled, blinking and letting his hand drop to look down at the grumpy face of Meowser, who looked so affronted at the movement of his cushion that Steve couldn’t help but chuckle.

Tony grunted, fingers scratching over Meowser’s head and behind Meowser’s ears. “C’mon, you absolute grump,” he cooed, pushing up and slowly forcing Meowser off his lap.

With an affronted harrumph, Meowser jumped off Tony’s lap and onto the floor, stalking away.

Steve took Tony’s hand, gently pulled his husband up onto his feet. Tony grimaced, face crinkling as he leaned heavily onto Steve. “Ah, yeah. That is what I was feeling,” he grumbled. “The fat bastard.”

“Natasha and Bucky might be coming over later, for dinner,” Steve said, bending down and letting Tony balance on his shoulders as he massaged Tony’s thighs to encourage blood to flow back into his asleep limbs. “I was thinking perhaps pasta, some wine. A nice night in.”

“Sounds amazing,” Tony hummed. “Let’s make a go of it. We have time, we have flour, we have eggs, there’s that nice Chambertin Grand Cru, you can make the fresh bread and I’ll make the fresh pasta.”

Standing back up, Steve pulled Tony close, kissed him deeply and sweetly. “It sounds absolutely amazing.”

With an adoring smile, Tony moved, barefoot, into the kitchen, beginning to hum. Steve followed behind him, and when Tony looked back at him, all Steve could do was smile hopelessly.

He was so in love with this man. As they moved through the kitchen, routines so ingrained and well-learned, positions and bodies revolving around each other as they each prepared their part of the meal, Tony teasing and flicking flour at Steve, Steve sneaking pinches of Tony’s ass, bumping his hip into Tony’s as he passed by him—as they prepared for Natasha and Bucky to stop by, Steve considered the path that had taken him here.

He hadn’t ever imagined this—growing old, growing happy, living a retired life. He no longer was called out to fight, no longer had demands on his time or his person, and he found that he really enjoyed the slow days. Every day blurred into one another, a warmth filling each and every single one. Though they all seemed similar, all seemed to merge, he could also vividly remember each one. He could pick out details, events. He could remember Tony first proposing a playdate for Meowser with Natasha’s cat, Alpine—and how Meowser, their utterly horrible and cantankerous baby, had been rough and tumble, almost vicious, towards Alpine. He could remember when they went to the farmer’s market, where no one took pictures of them and they moved through the stalls, bickering, even as they kept their fingers linked and rings clinking against the other’s.

Natasha would tease them relentlessly, make sure they were watering Gerard properly (Tony always threatened to forget watering him, and Natasha always asked after the plant whenever she came, called, or saw them outside of the house). Bucky would lean back in his chair, kicking his legs out to knock ankles with Steve, to shoot amused glances at him as they watched their spouses bicker and tease like siblings (they practically were).

This was his life, and it was so much better than Steve ever thought it could be.


End file.
